


Memories

by fuzzybatbutts



Series: Lessons To Be Learned [20]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: AMAB Bloodhound (Apex Legends), Abuse, Anal Sex, Angst, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bloodhound Headcanons (Apex Legends), Bloodhound Needs a Hug (Apex Legends), Bloodhound's Face (Apex Legends), Bottom Mirage | Elliott Witt, Broken Bones, Childhood Trauma, Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Violence, Dry Sex, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff and Angst, Horny Mirage | Elliott Witt, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Making Out, Mirage | Elliott Witt in Love, No Lube, Nonbinary Character, Nosebleed, Other, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Rough Sex, Sexual Violence, Simultaneous Orgasm, TIME FOR THAT POST TO GET REBLOGGED, Top Bloodhound (Apex Legends), Trauma, Underage Rape/Non-con, eheheheeheheehehehehehe, ha, it's a joke you'll get it later, turn your face to the mooon liiigghttt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:15:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27444007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzybatbutts/pseuds/fuzzybatbutts
Summary: A little piece of Hound's past comes back to haunt them.
Relationships: Bloodhound & Mirage | Elliott Witt, Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Series: Lessons To Be Learned [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1330520
Comments: 15
Kudos: 38





	Memories

**Author's Note:**

> READ! THE! FUCKING! TAGS!!!
> 
> Seriously this one is nasty in a different sense. Don't fuck with it if you're sensitive. Hound's past isn't happy.

The woodsmoke that clung to Hound was something Elliott would never tire of. It was such a warm, comforting scent that clung to the air around them, and he could tell where they’d walked by it wafting through the air. It was peaceful, a reminder of the nights where he was curled up on the couch with them, half asleep as the logs in the fireplace crackled. The forest around the cabin was never particularly loud, even on the nights where a storm was raging and the wind threatened to blow open the windows. Normally he wouldn’t have noticed all the small sounds, like the insects chirping in the bushes, or the various strange birds that cooed in the trees. Now he could recognize a lot of them, and the noises that Hound made around the cabin. The floorboards never creaked, but sometimes they could hear them shuffling around in their room, or the faint scraping of metal when they were in their study, or tinkering with the tubes across their body. He knew the sound of their breathing when they sat next to him, or how they’d mumble in their sleep when they dozed off together. 

He still mostly slept in his own room, but sometimes when they needed a hand getting to their bed they’d permit him to lay down next to them. He always woke up smelling of the incense they burned, but he didn’t mind. It was always sad when it faded, and he couldn’t get it back until they allowed him into their sanctuary one more. 

There were more times now that they were closer, like how he was sitting in their lap, with one of their hands on his cheek and the other resting on his leg as they kissed. That smell was all around him, and they tasted sweet, likely from the sugar they’d dumped into their coffee when they’d made breakfast together earlier that day. Being allowed closer into their impossibly small circle made him feel special, and he’d go so far as to call it privilege. As far as he knew, and from what they’d confided in him, he was really the only one to achieve that. It made a part of him sad to know, but he was cautiously optimistic that maybe he could widen it given time. His mother had called once to gush about them, saying how polite they were and how he absolutely needed to bring them over again, throwing in a jab about how they were such an upgrade compared to previous ‘contestants’.

Elliott knew that something like what he had with Hound wasn’t really something they’d ever make a public affair, not that either of them were interested in such a thing. He still couldn’t quite put a label on it, but in a way he liked that it would go without one. It was something that made it more unique, far more personal than what he was used to. They’d cut him short at the lake, robbed him of what seemed to be a perfect opportunity. Maybe it was because he’d been too rash in his confession, but their answer still hung in the air around them. 

_ “I know.” _

It was such a simple answer, but Hound had always been the best at getting the message across in such simple words. When they really meant something, they didn’t make it complex. Whether that was the only way they knew to convey such thoughts, or it was just how they liked to operate, he wasn’t entirely sure. Even their nickname, or pet name, if he dared to call it such, was short and sweet. It felt strange, to look back on all the times they’d called him that, despite him knowing in secret what it meant. 

It was too easy to paint Hound as somewhat obsessive. He preferred to call it dedicated, both to their lifestyle and the way they conducted themself around him. It was a sort of aloofness that normally would have driven him crazy, but Hound somehow made it work. He still found himself trying to decipher hidden meanings in what they said, but less and less did he feel he had to. Maybe it was just that fact that he was finally over the adjustment period, but he was comfortable in it anyway. He could definitely get used to it, just like he’d had to get used to them sneaking up behind him, only to place their chin on top of his head and laugh at him. 

He didn’t yet dare touch them without permission, but he noticed that their touches would linger just a bit longer now. He’d woken up as they’d carried him back to the cabin, hurrying back to safety as the sun started to creep in through the trees. His offer of walking on his own was promptly shushed, so he’d been happy to curl against them for the trip back. Elliott had never really felt so close to someone like he had at the lake, feeling them pressed against him as their hands shook. He’d never been touched like that, and suspected he’d never find someone who could again. It was special, which meant he had to keep it safe, keep it close to chest and hold onto it as long as he could. 

One of their hands crept along the waistband of his pants, slowly inching their way across his hip and over to his lower back. Their hands had finally warmed up, so he wasn’t jumping as they grazed over his skin. Sometimes they had the decency to try and do it ahead of time, but mostly they seemed to gain some sort of pleasure from watching him flinch away, trying to escape the horrible cold. It always broke through the heat of his skin, but sometimes it was unpleasant rather than soothing. 

Hound’s hand stopped for a moment as it brushed the scar on his back, tracing the lines of the raised tissue without needing to see them. He felt them frown against him slightly, so he pulled back and saw that they looked distracted.

“You okay?” he asked cautiously. 

“Yes,” they said, pushing against the flesh. “I did not realize how much it scarred.” 

“It’s okay, I like it.” 

Hound’s forehead crinkled, and he knew they were raising an eyebrow at him. They still preferred to keep their mask on, but he no longer had to imagine the face behind it. “I am certain you do.” 

Elliott let his hand hover over theirs, looking into the glass as he spoke. “Can I?”

“Very well.”

Gently, he grabbed hold of their hand and brought it up to his face, where the corners of his mouth were still pulled up by the scarring there. “I like these too. I like seeing them in the mirror all the time.” 

He moved their hand next to the ugly mound of scar tissue on his neck, which was a dark red that he wasn’t sure would ever fade. “And this one.”

“Do you remember why it’s there?” they asked, letting their fingers roam over the scar.

“It was a gift, to keep me safe.” 

“Good boy,” they said, leaning in to press a soft kiss on his lips. 

Elliott moved in closer, unsatisfied with the space between them. Hound moved their hand over to his chest, to the rune by his heart. They pushed on the spot, and Elliott winced.

“Ow,” he hissed. 

“The scar is still sore?”

“Yeah, all the really bad ones still kind of ache sometimes.”

“Badly?”

“Nah, besides,” he said, leaning into their hand, “I like that too.” 

Hound smiled, looking rather pleased. “Of course you do. What am I going to do with you?”

“Push harder.”

“My my,” they teased, digging their fingers into his flesh, “Someone is in a mood.”

“Can’t help it,” Elliott said, biting his lower lip, “You just know how to touch me.”

Elliott knew that Hound knew it too, but it was still fun to say. As much of an experience as the lake had been, he did miss when they felt more confident. It was unique, but it wasn’t what he wanted right now. He knew what to say to get what he craved, all his time with Hound giving him that at least. 

“Fuck me like you used to,” he breathed, looking up at them through half-lidded eyes. “Please?”

“ _ Gladly _ .” 

Before he could register the weight of their response, Hound had wrapped their arms around him and picked him up, seemingly effortlessly. He was careful not to grab onto their forearms too tightly, mindful of the tubes that ran along their skin. Their strength must have been with them that day, as they quickly moved over to a wall and shoved him against it. Elliott opened his mouth to speak, but the air was stolen from him as Hound bit down viciously on the scar on his neck, their canines almost immediately puncturing the flesh. Elliott cried out as they moved along his shoulder, sawing their teeth into his skin. Their knee slid between his legs to push them apart, pinning him further against the wall. Hound didn’t seem interested in giving him time to breathe as they sucked marks into his neck, not leaving even the smallest patch of skin untouched.

This was the Hound he knew well. He loved getting to know both sides of them, but there was an easy transition from their quiet, calm self and this, much more wild person. They were different experiences that felt wrong to compare to each other, and preference of one over the other depended entirely on mood. He’d missed not having to think, to just focus on the blinding pain and fall back into routine. He’d grown accustomed to just being their little toy, open for use whenever they saw fit. In the beginning even sleep wasn’t safe, since they had no problem waking him up to the feeling of them starting to push inside him. The suddenness of it was what he loved, and he was grateful that there’d been no hesitation. Even though he tried not to assume what Hound was thinking, he had a hunch they were more than happy to oblige. 

Hound pulled back and smiled at him, and Elliott could see his blood on their teeth. The mask was more of a turn on now that he knew what was beneath it. There was just something so inhuman about it, like he was being taken by a beast again. This was the person who’d forced themself upon him in the arena, and he’d missed them more than he liked to admit. 

Elliott was already panting, and barely found his breath again before looking up at them. “More. I wa- _ oof!” _

He exhaled as Hound drove their fist into his stomach, dropping him immediately to his knees. The force of the impact made him gag, and he knew there’d be an awful bruise there the next morning. As much as he loved pain, he hated when they’d hit him in the gut. Yes, he’d begged for it, but it just made him feel sick, though he also knew they could care less. It was more about seeing him suffer than his enjoyment, so they didn’t bother to ask what he did and didn’t like. 

Before he could properly recover, Hound grabbed him by the hair and pulled his face in, slamming their knee into his nose with a loud, sick crunching sound. Elliott saw stars as he fell back on the floor, blood rushing from his now obviously broken nose. 

“I did not give you permission to speak,  _ Kær,”  _ they snarled, walking over to where he lay, “I was going to give you what you wanted, but clearly you need some reminding. The rules I have given you, what are they?”

He swallowed hard, and tried to fight through the fog of what was likely a concussion to dig them out of the recesses of his mind. “S-speak o-only when s-spoken to.”

“Correct. Next.” 

“No flinching, no drawing back.”

Hound crossed their arms and stared down at him, and he knew immediately that he’d made a mistake. “You are forgetting something.”

Elliott tried to brace as he saw them draw their foot back, but it didn’t help much as they kicked him hard in the side. The pain helped the memory flare to life, of when they’d had him tied down to his bed, leaning over him as they explained the rules. 

“If you hurt me, it’s because I deserve it. I did something wrong, so I have to be punished.”

“Good. Next. In order, this time.”

“I can’t touch you without being commanded to.”

He was careful to choose the right words. They were a stickler for detail, and he had to get it exactly right, unless he wanted them to snap his ribs. To his delight they nodded approvingly, widening their stance and keeping their face still. “Next.”

Elliott swallowed a mouthful of blood, his nose still gushing like mad. He had grown to like the taste, but it didn’t help him to focus. This rule was an easy one to remember, but the pain in his face was making it hard to speak. He could feel himself already starting to swell, body desperate to protect itself from further abuse. On some level he loved betraying his own body, bringing pain upon it when instinct told him not to. Hound just had the effect on him, overriding the protective urges of his mind and dragging out the masochist in him. 

“I have to do everything you tell me to do,” he said, keeping his gaze off of them, “It doesn’t matter what it is, because you don’t like asking twice.”

“And finally?” they asked, still not giving anything away in their expression.

“You don’t care if it’s too much for me to handle, I’ll learn to love it anyway.” 

This time they smiled and walked forward, and he willed himself to stay put. A long time ago he would have frantically crawled backwards to escape, but now he just accepted whatever they were planning on giving him. It was his best option, since running would only make them angry. It was easier to just sit still and not resist. They’d do what they wanted at their own pace, and he was just along for the ride.

Hound kicked his legs apart and stepped between them, boots thumping against the wooden floor. They pressed their foot into his crotch, stepping lightly on it. The adrenaline rush had left him partially hard, the familiar fear taking over that part of his body. Hound apparently found it amusing as they put more weight onto their foot, slowly increasing the pressure while keeping the grin on their face.

Elliott cried out as they started to grind the tread of their boot against him, the thin fabric of his pants doing little to offer any kind of protection. It was already growing to be unbearable, and yet his body responded exactly how they wanted. He was pretty sure that any way Hound touched him would be enough to get him going, but this was still something new. 

“Disgusting,” they said, mouth curling to a sneer. “Getting off on this alone? My, apparently you’re even more pathetic than I thought.” 

Their words still stung, _pathetic_ sinking deep into his bones. The verbal abuse was something that had always affected him badly, no matter the mood he was in. Even when they weren’t fucking him it would come back, and he’d sit there alone wondering how much of it was true. He’d learned on some level to deal with his own negative self talk, but when it came from someone like Hound, it was a different matter entirely. He wasn’t sure if they were just doing it like they used to, or if their thoughts were just coming back to the surface. It hurt now more than it had then, now that he’d almost let slip what even he denied. He could focus most of his attention on the pain though, and for that he was grateful.

“I will have to wash my boot after this. It is dirty now that it has touched you.” 

The grinding had reached the point where it was no longer pleasurable. He could feel the rubber snagging on his cock through his pants, pulling at the skin and feeling like it was going to rip open the tissue. He couldn’t ask them to stop yet, though he doubted they would anyway. For a moment he wondered if they’d just crush it completely, deny him any enjoyment. They usually didn’t care if he came, it just tended to happen when they’d fuck him.

Hound dug in the toe of the boot a final time before they pulled back. Still apparently not wanting him to have any recovery time, they quickly bent forward and dropped a knee onto his chest. For a second he worried that such an action would hurt them since he couldn’t remember if they had any of their braces on, but if they were in pain, they didn’t show it. 

For the first time in a while, Elliott lost control of his hands. The air was slowly being crushed out of him, and he couldn’t resist the urge to push against their leg. As soon as he saw his hands move he knew it was a mistake, but it was too late for him to wrench back control.

Hound snarled and snatched one of his hands, bending the wrist back until the bones were seemingly an inch from coming apart. Elliott gasped, but every time he exhaled their knee would push in harder, not giving him space to breathe back in. 

“You dare touch me?” they hissed, getting in close to his face. “It seems that although you remember the rules, you feel as though you do not have to follow them.”

“P-please,” he choked, coughing in between fits of wheezing, “I c-can’t b-breathe.”

Hound responded by barking a laugh. “You say that like I should care whether you can or cannot. Breathing is a privilege, dear Elliott, and one you must earn again.

“Be good and beg for me,” they said, grabbing a hold of his fingers, “I will be kind and give you a chance, even if you do not deserve it.” 

“I-I’m sorry,” he rasped, “I didn’t mean-”

_ Crack! _

Elliott howled in pain as Hound snapped one of his fingers back, pressing it into the back of his hand. He tried to vain to yank his hand back, to free it from their grasp, but it served only to enrage Hound further. 

_ Crack! _

A second finger went, and Elliott had started to cry. Tears ran hot down his face as Hound’s fingers hovered above his own. They’d broken enough of his bones that he was still used to the sound. It was like wet wood being snapped in half, and the sound traveled through his body and up to his skull, where it reverberated around, not giving him any peace or escape. Bones were a special kind of pain, one that pulsed around the site of the break and radiated up his arm. It was sickening, the agony in both his hand and face, and the nausea from the bruise on his stomach mixing together. 

_ Crack! _

The third went, and Elliott knew he couldn’t take it anymore. He knew they were more than capable of breaking every bone in his hand, and that they likely would if it fancied them. He knew the rules, especially the one that stated that Hound didn’t care if it was too much for him, but  _ he _ didn’t care. Rules be damned, he couldn’t take this anymore.

Using his free hand, Elliott frantically thumped it against the wood floor, as close to tapping out as he could get. Hound paused, looking as he frantically tried to keep up the pace. His body was going into shock from the trauma, and he couldn’t help how much he was crying. He felt cold everywhere there wasn’t pain, and his ribcage was creaking under the pressure of their knee. 

Elliott hadn’t expected his signal to work, and when Hound dropped his hand to his chest, he was certain he was dreaming. Maybe the concussion they’d given him had made him pass out, and he was drooling on the floor as they tried to pick him back up. Either way, Hound seemed to have paused for just a split second, their hands still awkwardly in the air from where they’d dropped him from. Their mouth was open slightly, like they were shocked by their own actions.

He opened his own mouth to speak, though he was unsure of exactly what to say. A ‘thank you’ didn’t feel quite right for some strange reason, and he knew saying anything else would just make the situation feel all the more awkward. Hound shook their head slightly and looked back down at him, mouth once again set into a stiff line. He was almost relieved, happy that they were taking the first action and sparing him the embarrassment of trying to stutter his way into something else. If he’d spoken, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to salvage the trainwreck the situation would turn into. 

Hound took their knee off of his chest and knelt beside him, their hand moving to grab at his crotch. Elliott winced as he tried to catch his breath, his dick still sore from being ground into the floor. They didn’t seem to care much, and that mocking smile he’d grown accustomed to was back on their face.

“Really?” they said, sounding surprised, “You ask me to stop and yet you are this hard? Please, Elliott, I think we both know your tolerance for pain is better than that. Lucky for you, I do not feel like waiting any longer. If I do, I worry that you will not make it out of this with use of either of your hands.”

Their hands grabbed hold of his waist and rolled him over, nails biting into the tender skin. Elliott was still trying to get a hold of his breathing, his throat starting to hurt from the hacking cough he’d developed. Hound moved fast, pulling his pants down and moving in to grind against his ass. He felt their fingers twist into his hair as his head was yanked back, forcing him to lean on his hands to support himself. He yelped in pain, but Hound just kept pulling him back. 

“Go on, Elliott,” they said, voice husky, “Ask nicely.”

He could barely hear them over the white noise in his head. The pain was really starting to take over his senses, small lights flashing in the corners of his eyes as he saw stars. The blood in his mouth felt thick, more akin to syrup then anything else. It made speaking difficult, and the swelling of his face didn’t help matters either. Hound once again had managed to pick the one thing he felt he couldn’t do, but they knew his limits well enough to know when they could force him. It was rare that he’d really shut down, but the shock was starting to make that feel like a real possibility. His body was literally beginning to become incapable of responding, whether he wanted it to or not. 

“P-please,” he whispered, desperate to force out an answer before it was no longer possible, “Please fuck me.”

“Try again.” 

_ “Please,  _ fuck me.”

They made a noise of approval and shoved him back towards the ground. Elliott barely managed to catch himself, not bothering to smother the cry of pain as his broken fingers connected with the wood. He cradled his digits to his body as Hound spread his ass apart, trying to keep them safe from any further damage. At least the pain of being fucked was one he knew he could handle, and at least experience told him it was one that he could enjoy. 

A moan passed through his lips as Hound pushed themselves inside, the lack of anything but saliva making it slow going. It was always a painful stretch to take someone of their size, but it burned in just the right way that made his toes curl. It was alright with him if he’d never really get used to it. He liked it no matter how they fucked him, and suspected he always would. Seeing the blood in his boxers afterwards had stopped being distressing, and it was no longer a surprise when he could feel it running down his thighs. Sometimes they’d just reopen the tears, and it felt like they’d never really get the proper chance to heal. The blood just helped make everything easier, so he considered it a blessing in disguise. 

He felt the weight of their hand pressing on the back of his skull, keeping him pinned to the floor. The blood from his nose was pooling on the ground in front of him, seeping through the cracks of the wood and into the space under his cheek. Small droplets dripped from his face as they started thrusting into him, causing the surface of the blood to ripple. He loved how warm it was, how it felt like someone was holding his cheek in their hands. The situation wasn’t quite as tender, but it didn’t make it any less pleasurable. 

Elliott wondered if he touched his stomach, if he’d be able to feel them fucking into him. It always felt like it at least, the muscles cramping up in protest. It was a pretty thing to imagine if nothing else, the skin stretching trying to accommodate them. It was a struggle not to dig his fingers into the wood and just hold on, trying to keep it together until they were done. His broken digits wouldn’t allow it, as they’d seized up from all the swelling. 

It was strange, the combination of the two pains together. One he adored, as it had made him come so hard so many times. The other was awful, pulsing, and threatened to drown the other one out. Somehow it made the first escalate quickly, the idea that he loved the pain of being fucked so much that it rivaled the trauma he’d been through, enough to push him close to the edge. He liked being mocked, and had no doubt that Hound would use this against him later on. They didn’t need to touch him beyond this, didn’t need to sully their hands anymore than they already had. Maybe they’d make a show of wiping their palms off like they had in the past, and leave him to bleed on the floor until he had the energy to get up himself. 

Crawling away just wasn’t an option, not with how tightly they were grabbing onto him. The wet slap was most of what he could hear, combined with his own sad little whimpers. He was surprised he could still hear it considering how dull his other senses were becoming. Slowly, a fog seemed to be settling around him, cutting out everything besides Hound. They had a habit of consuming him wholly like that, no matter what they did. Maybe now he could call their fucking passionate rather than angry, but it was still dominating all the same. Not that it was a bad thing, since he could always use the opportunity to turn his brain off. It was still too skilled at running away from him, so he was happy they’d take over to let him have something simpler. 

Happy was the best word to describe his feelings, despite his current situation. He was happy that Hound had allowed him into their company, and that things like this could continue. A part of him felt oddly guilty for missing it so much, but experiencing it again reminded him of just why. It was something he simply couldn’t get from anyone else, even if he’d wanted to try. Maybe it was just because of how long they’d spent together, but Hound just knew his body so well now. It was the same for him, though they usually preferred to skip the foreplay and get right to the good part. He liked the idea that maybe someday they’d let him have a slight amount of control, or maybe just be able to service them without having to ask. 

He could imagine the fun that he’d have if they’d even just let him kneel in front of them and blow them while they were tinkering at their workbench, or maybe pull them aside on their walks through the woods and ask for it when he had the urge. There was likely no harm in asking considering how open to his questions they’d become, but some small part of him still feared the worst, that maybe they’d go back to being guarded and he’d have to start all over. 

The passion behind their time at the lake still hovered between them, but didn’t hamper his enjoyment of the present. It was still enough to just go slack, enjoy the feeling of their cock hitting his prostate, and letting himself moan freely instead of trying to hide it. His hands were too busy to cover his mouth, something which he surprisingly liked. Usually he tried to hide it, but there was something so hot about hearing himself being pushed so far. There was no denying it, that despite the brutal treatment his body was going through, he was loving every minute of it. 

Hound was slightly noisier than usual as well, apparently not hiding their sounds as much as they used to. He’d never liked how quiet they were, even all the way back in the beginning. Now though, he could hear them sighing behind him, and the small hitches in their breathing. Occasionally they’d let slip soft words, though none in english for him to understand. He was too shy to ask later what they meant, but he had a hunch they were probably some kind of expletive. Either way it was incredibly attractive, to really hear what his body was doing to them. If he strained his ears hard enough he could swear he heard his name, mumbled beneath their breath. He knew now from the lake that they usually kept their eyes closed, just focussing on the feeling like he did. 

Elliott knew there was likely a small pool of precum on the floor beneath him, and he was no longer sure if the cloudiness in his head was purely from the concussion, or if the pleasure he was feeling was starting to dominate. He wished it could go on for longer, that he could be fucked by them until he was ready to just pass out, and that maybe he’d wake to them crawling into bed next to him when they were ready to have fun again. It was a lovely thought, that they’d never let him leave until they were too tired for it themself. Hound was really the only one he knew whose stamina outmatched his own, but he was grateful to have found it. 

He knew them well enough to know that the tightening of their grip meant they were getting closer. The fire growing in his belly meant the same for him, the pleasure truly winning out over the pain at last. Their pace had slowed but was purposeful, drawing out each thrust, but pushing in fully at its end. It was torturous at times, but now it was steadily edging him closer, not giving him any kind of break. Usually they were more rapid, but he assumed this felt better for them, judging by the noises they were making. He looked past their hand and up to their face, where their mouth was open slightly again and their brow was furrowed. Hound must have sensed him staring, as they looked up and into his eyes. He could imagine the fire blazing there behind the glass, the proud look in their gaze that he loved so dearly. It was a strong word, ‘love’, and although he wasn’t brave enough to attempt ever speaking it again, the power behind it felt right. He didn’t need to anyway. They knew, and that was enough for him for now. 

Elliott couldn’t take the build-up anymore. His body tensed up and he came with a cry, the force behind it making his entire body shudder. His uninjured hand clawed up, trying to grab a hold of something to ride out the intensity of the climax. It shot through the fog in his head, crashing through his body like a wave and soothing the burning he felt. He knew it would be enough to make Hound come, and their own final, strangled moan proved him right. 

He loved how it felt when they came. How their cock would twitch, and how he could feel their come filling him up. They stayed there for a moment, catching their breath together until Hound pulled out. He could still feel the cum inside him, and how warm it was running down his legs. Elliott tried to focus solely on that, but the pain in his hand was steadily rising now that the distraction was gone.

Hound saw him wincing, and trying to hold his hand against his chest. It was just reflexive, trying to stay away from the very hands that had caused him so much pain.

“Let me see, Kær. I can splint whatever the damage is, most likely.”

Elliott peeled his hand away from himself to catch a glimpse, gagging when he caught sight of it. Hound’s face turned into one of concern, and they gestured again for him to let them look. “Come, let me see. It cannot be that ba-... oh.”

Two of the fingers were relatively fine, just sitting at odd angles while the skin around them slowly turned a dark purple. The other, his ring finger, sat crooked as a little strip of white bone was visible through a cut in the flesh. Hound had snapped it badly enough for the bone to have split through, and was likely the cause of the worst of the pain. 

They swallowed hard as they examined his hand, careful not to move the worst of the damage. “I think… this is beyond my ability to repair here.”

Had he not been in such intense pain, Elliott would have rolled his eyes. “You think?” he said, gritting his teeth.

He could feel Hound glaring at him, still not appreciating his sass despite the situation. Elliott felt it was justified, considering they were the one at fault. 

They sighed and stood up, looking down at him with their arms crossed. “I will have to take you to a hospital. I do not want to risk realigning the bones incorrectly.” 

“You and me both.”

_

Elliott kicked his feet back and forth as he sat on the hospital bed, holding his bandaged hand in his lap and waiting for the doctor to come back. Hound had insisted on walking him into the waiting room, making sure he got a seat before they quickly walked back to their car, apologizing that they couldn’t wait there with him. A part of him still wondered if it was to ensure he wouldn’t bolt, but he felt there was more to it then just that. They’d seemed tense as soon as the hospital was in sight, their words sharp and their voice sounding on edge. He just assumed they’d had a bad experience or two, but it was impossible to miss the speed at which they’d walked out. It was practically a jog, and they’d nearly shoved another patient into the wall on their escape. Hound wasn’t really the type to fear, and it was still hard to imagine anything really being able to scare them. He hadn’t forgotten the incident down at the river, and he was reminded of it every time he saw the greyish scars that ran down their arms from their nails. 

If the hospital upset them so, then he was almost relieved they were waiting outside. He didn’t like the idea that he was making them uncomfortable, especially when he’d asked for them to hurt him in the first place. The open fracture wasn’t intentional, and they’d been hovering over him the whole ride to the hospital. He still wasn’t allowed to see the route out of the woods, but as soon as they’d taken the blindfold off, they were borderline fussing over him. He wasn’t used to it, but he wasn’t exactly against it either. It was touching in a way, seeing that they cared so much. He knew they’d be out there when he was done, keeping a watchful eye on the doors to make sure he came out okay. 

It felt strange being somewhere they couldn’t see. The cabin was so small that he was never really far away, and even when they went out into the woods alone, he had a feeling there were eyes on him anyway. Artur would often sit in the windows and watch him, a silent reminder of their presence. He still didn’t like the damned bird, even if it was just an extension of them. It was too moody for his liking, and he still couldn’t get near it without getting a beak driven into his knuckles. It behaved when Hound could see, but other than that it was a menace. Now though, without any windows to the outside, he really was away from them. The cinder block wall kept them out for now, but he’d grown so used to never being alone that the thought of it was unsettling. 

“Mr. Witt?”

Elliott looked up to see a young female nurse peeking her head through the door. She had a clipboard tucked under one arm, and a small pill bottle in the other. “Yes?”

She nodded slightly, looking nervous as she spoke. “The doctor gave you the all clear. As long as you keep the fingers still they should be okay while the bones heal back together. We decided to give you some painkillers, just to keep the soreness down for the first few days. There isn’t much we can do for the concussion, other than tell you to take it easy and avoid driving for the next little while.”

He held his hand open for the bottle, looking down at the bright orange plastic. Several small capsules rattled around inside as he shook it gently, watching them tumble over each other. 

“Oh, um, and one more thing.”

Elliott looked back up as she pulled something from the clipboard. It was a small pamphlet, darkly coloured with words ‘We Can Help’ written along the top in bold white letters. On it was the image of a woman with her face in her hands, and the silhouette of someone standing behind her menacingly. 

“What… what is this?” Elliott asked, gingerly flipping it over in his hands.

“How exactly did you say you got these injuries, Mr. Witt?” she asked, holding her clipboard close to her chest.

“I, uh…” he struggled to remember the answer he’d given previously. “Fell down the stairs.”

“Right,” she said, disbelief obvious in her tone. “Well, just in case, I thought I would give you this. Men are victims of domestic abuse too, you know, so there’s no shame in it. I saw someone walk you in here quite forcefully, so I hope you can forgive my assumption.”

Elliott clapped his uninjured hand to his mouth, forcefully smothering the snort that threatened to spill from his mouth. “O-oh… t-thank you. I um, I-I really appreciate it.” 

“There’s a lot of great resources in there,” she continued, looking genuinely concerned, “So if you ever feel the need, there’s numbers you can call. Someone like you deserves better than this, you know?”

Elliott put on a smile, still trying to contain the laughter threatening to bubble up. “Oh, y-you know who I am?”

She nodded shyly. “Yes, I do. One of my coworkers pointed you out, and I really couldn’t believe it. I try to watch the games whenever I can, just for fun.”

“Well it’s always nice to meet a fan,” he said, easing up. “I just wish it were in better circumstances than this! Hospitals aren’t exactly the best places for chatting.

“I would appreciate it though,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “If we could, y’know, keep this, kinda between us? It can be our secret.” 

“O-of course!” she stammered, “I can’t really speak for my coworkers, but I can keep quiet on this, if that’s what you want.”

“Thank you. I-I should get going now though, I don’t really want to keep my ride waiting.”

She smiled and stepped out of the door, waving him through. “Yes, have a good day Mr. Witt, and um, stay safe, okay? I don’t want to see you back in here again.”

He flashed her a smile as he walked out, pulling up the hood on the sweater Hound had made him wear. He was grateful for it now, as several eyes watched him leave the emergency room. No doubt there was going to be whispering about who he was with, but he wouldn’t be around to hear it. Normally if anyone else had approached him he’d be happy to hang out and talk, but the pounding in his head was getting to be too much. 

Elliott took in a deep breath, breathing in the fresh air as he stepped outside. He hated the smell of hospitals with a passion, and even the sour smell of the city was better than the overbearing scent of cleanliness from the waiting room. 

He could spot Hound almost immediately, leaning against the door of their jeep staring intently at the ground. Their whole face was covered by their white mask, but he could see how agitated they looked the closer he got. They were drumming their fingers on their arms, and holding themself tightly despite how warm it was outside. They were still just acting strangely, but he didn’t want to risk asking them about it yet. He was still too sore, and the prospect of elongated, tense conversation wasn’t appealing in the slightest. 

Hound’s head shot up as he got close, and they relaxed as he stood before them. “Elliott. How are you?”

He laughed and waved the pamphlet in the air. “Well, today’s going to end up in the tabloids.”

Hound cocked their head. “What? What do you mean?”

Elliott handed it to them, and they just shook their head. “You have got to be kidding me.”

He shook his head. “Unfortunately not. I can see the headlines now.”

Elliott stood beside them and gestured in the air, spreading his hands like he was framing a sign. “Mirage, caught up in a secret scandal?”

He spoke in a boisterous voice, playing it up. “Apex Legend, Business Man, and Victim!? Read here to find out more!” 

Hound chuckled beside him, uncrossing their arms. “Surely this cannot be your first time dealing with such matters?”

Elliott frowned. “Hey, I’m a respe… um, I’m a nice guy! What exactly do you think I get up to?”

Hound shrugged. “Debauchery I cannot even imagine, I am sure. You can tell me about them for part of the journey back.”

“Can we stop at my place first?” he asked, “I want to grab a few things to bring to the cabin. I’m also starving so... maybe we can make something there?”

“I have no issue with that. I suppose it is too late to make the trip home anyways.”

Hound stepped away from the door and opened it for him, gesturing inside the car. 

“Aw, and they say chivalry is dead. You do care after all.”

They looked down at him, and he could practically feel the confusion in their stare. “I do not understand.”

“What do you mean?”

“Were you to open the door with your broken hand? That seems impractical.”

“Nevermind.”

_

Elliott happily sighed as he flopped onto his bed, careful to leave his hand raised in the air. He’d missed his own bed dearly, even after all the time he’d had to get used to the one at the cabin. It was stiff as a board, whereas his own was soft enough that he just sank right into it. It was still unmade from the last time he’d been there, but he was happy just to have the opportunity to lay back and relax until he was forced to move again. 

“Elliott?”

He sat back up, mumbling annoyedly to himself. He’d rather been enjoying his bed, and now Hound was ruining that as well as his hand. “Yes?”

“How exactly am I supposed to find anything to cook with in this mess?”

Elliott chuckled to himself. “What do you mean? It’s organized just fine.”

Hound stuck their head out from the kitchen. “This is your idea of organized? Dear gods, perhaps I was too rough with you the first time we met after all.”

Elliott shrugged. “Well  _ I  _ have no problem finding anything.”

“Well of course  _ you  _ do not. When we return home apparently I have more to teach you.”

Hound retreated back to the kitchen before he could say anything, leaving him open mouthed still sitting on his bed. His nose ached horribly, seemingly amplified by the semi-threat left hanging in the air. Whether it was a serious one, or they’d just said it to watch him squirm, he wasn’t sure. Both seemed equally possible considering who he was talking to, but he could at least hope it was the latter. His body wasn’t used to the trauma like it used to be, and he didn’t want to take any more punishment than he already had that day. He’d come despite it all anyway, but that didn’t mean they’d have the good graces to let him get off next time. 

Letting go of the thought, Elliott looked to the left side of his bed, where a tall stack of mail sat beside him. His mailbox had been practically overflowing with various bits of junk mail and small holo-videos sent in by fans. Most of the time they’d be sent to the bar or to a section of the organizers for the games who helped manage the champions’ public appearances. It wasn’t uncommon for him to get letters at home though, considering he did a fairly poor job at keeping it hidden. It was slightly unnerving, but he’d grown used to seeing them. He liked hearing from fans, reading all their stories and taking the time to appreciate the effort they put in. Some were just text that he could scroll through, and some recorded videos of themselves shyly talking about how much they loved watching him compete. It could get overwhelming if they really started to pile up, and since he’d been absent, there’d apparently been a rise in the amount of people who decided they needed to go right to the source to ensure they got their response. 

One was a bright red color, a signature indicator of the Syndicate, or at least one of its subcommittees. Elliott picked it up and turned it on, curious as to see what they wanted. It was usually just an invite to the next game, as they came far in advance to give the contestants time to prepare. They didn’t always invite the highly ranked champions back for every game, especially if they were hosting a lower caliber one for newer competitors. 

Elliott clicked the button on the device, and a wall of text appeared in the air in front of him. He rolled his eyes and started to skim, uninterested in every minute detail they’d crammed into the letter. 

He groaned when he caught the word ‘sponsor’ written in a highlighted text. It was an invite, or rather, a demand, for his appearance at the next sponsor party the committee was hosting. All the reward money and trophies were provided by the rich citizens of the nearby planets in an effort to keep the games going. Glory didn’t pay the bills, and bragging rights could only take someone so far. Some legends donated their winnings or were backed by charities, and others just hoarded what they could to fund better gear and tech to bring into the games. Most of his own went towards his mother, despite her protests. Hound, as far as he knew, didn’t ask for much. They barely appeared in interviews after the fact, and he’d never seen them at any of the parties. A part of him felt pity for whoever was in charge of their PR, since he couldn't see them being very cooperative. 

Hound poked their head out again. “What’s wrong?”

“They’re hosting a sponsor party soon, and I have been,” he sat up straight and stuck his nose up in the air, “ _ graciously invited to attend a night of fine dining and finer company.” _

They snorted. “Oh, one of  _ those _ . I suppose you feel the need to attend?”

Elliott rolled his eyes. “I probably should, yeah. If I don’t they’re going to be on my ass about being absent from everything.”

“Ah yes, because they feel the need to make bloodsport appear to be somewhat civilized.”

“Yup. Watch for the predators, stay for the wine pairings.” 

“Hm,” they said, apparently deep in thought, “If you go, then I should attend as well. At least then I can keep an eye on you.”

Elliott was equal parts surprised, and not at all. He wasn’t completely shocked that they wanted to be there by his side, but he also was because the event didn’t seem like their scene at all. Hound barely spoke in public as it was, and because they never showed up before when he was present, they’d likely be the main attraction. Most of the legends who attended were there to scope out their competition, and seeing Hound outside of their kit would be something worth noting for sure, though he doubted they’d be seeing much. “You sure?”

“Yes. I like knowing where you are, and in such a secure place it will be hard to do so in secret.”

He thought for a moment, remembering what he’d been told by the committee member back at the hospital. “We probably shouldn’t stick too close together though. It’ll raise too many questions if we’re right beside each other all night.”

“And why is that?”

Elliott stiffened. He’d forgotten to tell them about what got aired in their previous match. “W-well they, um, r-remember when we hugged in the last match?”

“Yes.”

“Well, t-that got out.”

Hound cursed under their breath. “Of course it did.”

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, looking down at the ground sheepishly. “S-sorry about that.”

“I can forgive it this time. I owe you that much.” 

“Have you ever been dragged to one of these?”

“No,” they huffed, “I would greatly prefer a bullet to the side of my head again then to listen to them prattle on, but if you go, then I go as well.”

They went back to banging around in the kitchen as Elliott turned the device off, setting it aside on his side table so he didn’t lose it. He’d have to bring it back to the cabin with him, along with the few other small items he planned on taking with him. A picture of him and his mother together in her shop, taken several years before dementia had really gotten hold of her. There was another of him and Anita, with her begrudgingly smiling on one of the nights they’d gone out to celebrate after the games. He figured it’d be nice to have them both in his room, just to make it feel a bit more like home. He’d never liked how plain the cabin was. Aside from the picture Hound had of their people on the wall and their little carvings, it was pretty much devoid of character. He knew that was probably just their preference, but at least he could have a little space for his own memories. 

Elliott turned his attention back to the mail, when something caught his eye. It was a white envelope, half-buried under the rest. He picked it up and examined it, flipping it over in his hands. On the front in black ink was his name and address, written in neat cursive. Something about it felt familiar, but he couldn’t quite place what it was. It just tugged at a certain part of his brain, begging to be remembered despite his failings to do so. Nobody had sent him handwritten letters before, especially not in neat cursive. There was no return address on it either, which just piqued his interest further. Someone had clearly put effort into this, but something about it made him feel uneasy. It was a thick envelope, so clearly they’d wanted him to know something.

He ripped open the top of it and let the contents slide into his hand. It was hard to hold with his broken fingers, but he could manage to keep it secure enough that it didn’t fall onto the floor. They looked to be a set of pictures. He set the envelope down and focused his attention on them. 

Elliott went cold as he saw the first in the stack. It was a picture of a pale, thin figure laying naked on their back. Their hands were bound above them with a red rope, and their face was framed by long, almost silver hair. Their stomach was covered in some white substance, and they had a dazed look on their face. Along their arms were several blue tubes, shining against the dark light in the photo. 

He nearly dropped the stack, hands starting to shake. There was no denying what he was seeing, despite his brain already racing to make excuses. He’d only seen that face once, but he’d committed every line of it to memory. It was Hound, no question about it. Their icey blue eyes weren’t quite as foggy as when he’d seen them, but they looked unfocused, like they were staring off into space. They looked uncomfortably young, their face absent from the deep bags he’d seen under their eyes. The scar was missing as well, leaving their face completely unblemished. 

His hands seemingly moved on his own, setting the photo down on the bed next to him and moving onto the next. He hated himself for doing so, for seeing this part of them that clearly they’d wanted to keep private. He’d felt they’d left something out at the lake, but he’d resigned himself to never knowing what it was. If this was the something that they’d left out, it felt wrong to be seeing it now. It was a complete violation of their privacy, but he couldn’t look away. A part of him hoped there’d be answers somewhere in it, an explanation he wasn’t entitled to but still desperately wanted. 

The next in the stack was a close up of their face, eyes still unfocused and what was clearly cum dripping down their face. Their mouth was open slightly, with drool running down the corner. It was more disturbing than that last, because there was no way he could make any kind of excuse, or come up with some flimsy reason why it wasn’t them. He just knew that face too well to deny it now. 

His own body felt like it had frozen by ice as he flipped through the stack, disgusted by the sheer amount of photos he’d been sent. Each looked to be originals, and were all of Hound in various positions. Some were just various shots of their body, bound in all kinds of positions. Others had their face, some with a gaping mouth and others with their lips wrapped around someone's cock. In some their hair was neatly tied up, others had a mysterious hand wrapped up in the locks of hair and yanking it back. One was a side shot of them on their stomach, head being pulled back with someone fucking them from behind. 

The final photo stood out from the rest. Hound standing perfectly straight in the foreground, naked, body covered in bruises of various sizes. Behind them was a group of people, all standing side by side, faces covered by half masks in a similar style to theirs. All of them were dressed in identical black clothing, making it near impossible to find any kind of distinguishing features. From what he could tell it was nearly an equal split between men and women, but they all had a perfect, eerie smile on their faces. There was a figure in the middle, with a gloved hand laying possessively on their shoulder. He seemed the most relaxed of all of them, with his smile being the most natural. 

Elliott felt sick to his stomach as he set it aside, relieved to find there were no more photos left. Instead there was a small piece of paper, neatly folded with his name once again written in that perfect cursive. He didn’t want to open it, just as he hadn’t wanted to keep looking through the photos. It was an awful kind of curiosity that made him unfold it, and read through the words inside.

_ Mr. Witt, _

_ Words cannot express how grateful I am that you have found my darling Nenna. It has been too long since I last laid eyes upon the real them, rather than the awful persona they put on for their little competition. I do hope you are giving them the care that they need. They have always been quite the fragile little thing, no matter how tough they insist on acting.  _

_ I also cannot stress how lucky you are that they value you so much. Once I saw them with you in the games, I knew they must have cared for you. Nenna does not care about people easily, so do not take advantage of that.  _

_ Yet despite it all, do not go thinking that they belong to you. While they choose to be around you, I am the one who knows them best. There is a side of them that only I have seen, and you can never hope to understand that. I sent you these treasures of mine to prove this to you. Despite what they have told you, it will never be the whole truth that I know. They value you, but they do not trust you.  _

_ The best thing you can do for them is to return them to me. I am the only one who can fix what ails them. I helped to create what you see before you, and while I know they tinker with their body, they do not possess the skills needed to truly help themself. It would be a mercy to them, to be back with someone who can give them the care they deserve. They cannot keep being strong forever, and they know that just as well as I do.  _

_ Ask them, and they will know what to do.  _

_ Thank you. _

The letter had no signature, or any kind of identifying marks aside from the script it was written in. Elliott's head was swirling, the room around him shifting enough to make him dizzy. He didn’t have a clue of what he was supposed to do, how he was supposed to react to something like that. A million questions were circling around him, and he was unable to pick just one to focus on. 

Nenna, was that their name? This man, was he the one behind their modifications? How did he know where they were? What kind of power did he have over Hound? How sick in the head did he have to be to do something like this?

He felt like he was going to be sick himself looking back at the photos left in his hand. His hands felt dirty, like he needed to scrub at them under boiling water to get the feeling off of him. The pain in his chest was growing, spreading through his body as he thought of them. This was a person he cared so deeply for, more so than anyone else he’d ever encountered. Hound really was the world to him, and to see them in a position like that was beyond disgusting. It was impossible to put into words, and just as impossible for him to make sense of it in any kind of form.

“Elliott?”

His head shot up as he looked to where Hound was standing in the kitchen doorway, a look of annoyance on their face. “Elliott, I have been calling to you for a minute now, what is wrong?”

He felt the blood leave his face when Hound saw the look on it, their own moving from annoyance to concern. They stepped forward and Elliott tried to hide the photos behind him, trying in vain to keep them away from them. Whether it was for his own sake or theirs, he wasn’t sure.

Hound closed to distance before he could, snatching up the pile of photos he’d dropped on the bed. Their face went to something he could only describe as despair as they flipped through them. With each photo their expression shifted, going from one of sorrow to a quickly growing anger. He could see it bubbling up, and how they were grinding their teeth together. 

Elliott jumped as they violently ripped the photos in half, flipping them over to further tear them into smaller pieces. They dropped the shreds on the floor and stomped on them, trying to erase them completely. Hound looked back up to him, and he didn’t need to see behind the mask to know the expression of rage that was on their face. 

Before he could react, Hound grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and lifted him clean off the bed, keeping up close to his face. He could feel how hard they were breathing, and felt their hands shaking against him. The Hound he knew was gone, replaced by a being of pure anger. 

“Where did you get these?” they snarled, shaking him, “How long have you been talking to him?”

“I-I don’t know who you’re talking about!” he shouted, grabbing hold of their arms despite the pain, “T-they just showed up in my mail!”

“Liar,” they sneered, “Do not make me ask you again, Elliott. How long have you been talking to him?”

Fear burned in his gut, twisting inside him like a knife. He had no doubt in that moment that Hound could have killed him if they wanted to. It would have been easy for them to just snap his neck and walk away, or strangle the life out of him if they wanted to make it personal. He was scared, but a part of him was angry too. He couldn’t believe that they’d accuse him of something so awful. He hadn’t left their side in months, and had no way of communicating with someone without their permission. It didn’t make sense, and it was bizarre to him that someone as logical as they were would jump to such a conclusion. 

“Hound, please,  _ look _ at me,” he said, staring back at them, “Do I look like I’m lying? Have I ever lied to you?”

“Unless you have been lying from the start,” they said, baring their teeth.

Elliott kept his eyes on them. “God, do you really think I’m capable of that? Do you really think I could keep something like that up? You found  _ me _ , not the other way around.”

The look on their face faltered, and he knew he had to act quickly. “How could I have been plotting this all from the start if you chose to go after me? Why the hell would I plot something with this sick fuck, and then sit with you at the lake and tell you everything I did? I tried… I tried to tell you how I felt for god's sake! Why would I do something like that if I didn’t really mean it?”

Hound dropped him, letting him fall back onto the bed. He could see their hands shaking and their chest heaving as they tried to breathe. “ _ Fjandi! _ ”

They turned on their heels and knocked the lamp off of his side table, sending it to the floor with a loud crash. Hound looked up at the ceiling and screamed in frustration, clenching their hands into fists. 

“How dare he!” they yelled, voice quickly becoming unhinged, “How  _ dare _ he try and worm his pathetic way back into my life? Sick bastard, he cannot even speak to me in person!”

Elliott moved back on his bed, pressing his back into the wall. He didn’t feel safe, not with them working their way up into a frenzy like this. 

“The  _ andskotinn _ , he is such a coward that he has to bring  _ you _ into this! No doubt  _ gloating _ about it the whole time!”

It was awful to see, even more so than the photos had been. He wanted to help, but it was all he could do to stay out of their way. If he tried to physically intervene then he risked being swatted aside, or worse, whether they intended to hurt him or not. It was too risky, so he just sat there, helpless, watching them rage.

“He sends you these as a form of controlling me,” they spat, grinding their foot into the shredded remains of the photos. “Hoping to blackmail me, no doubt. Or show me once again that his sick, disgusting form of  _ affection  _ is what I need. Still assuming he knows what’s best, though I was a fool for expecting any different.”

Elliott bit on his tongue, trying to keep his questions to himself. Who on earth could call this sort of thing  _ affection? _ Was this someone who took them in after they left their tribe, or were they taken? And how the hell did they ever manage to meet someone so horrible? It was something Elliott just couldn’t comprehend. He’d fought in the arena against some of the most despicable people, who participated only so they had an excuse to hurt others. At least then it could be justified as the competitors knowing what they signed up for, but if Hound was really as young as they looked, then there was no way they’d had a choice in this matter. 

It made him feel dirty just knowing that such an awful person existed, and even more so that whoever ‘he’ was, he hadn’t acted alone. There’d been a whole group of people, all privy to whatever had happened to Hound, and they’d sat back the whole time. He couldn’t be sure what their relationship with Hound was, but the smiles on their faces just looked so sinister that he knew it couldn’t be anything he could really understand. He wasn’t the kind of person who could even imagine such awful horrors, let alone picture himself doing it to someone else. The games were a means to an end, but there was no purpose that he could see for that group other than getting off. Elliott had no idea of knowing how long it all had been going on for, but he could hope at least for Hound’s sake that it hadn’t been very long. He could only imagine the effect it had had on them, and judging by their sudden outburst, it was something terrible. 

It made sense to him then why they were so secretive aside from their physical limitations. If they were hiding from someone, then plastering their face on any and all forms of media would be the perfect way to get themself caught. It was still strange to admit that there was something that frightened Hound, especially something seemingly so simple as a man. That kind of anger was never just anger alone, it was always accompanied by something else. The way they were shaking was what told him it was still some kind of fear, buried deep as it was within them. He had no doubt there was likely some form of shame too, something he knew well. Whatever it was, it was clearly still raw, some unhealed wound that the photos had ripped back open. 

“It was my mistake to ever hope that he would understand my hatred of him,” they said, digging their nails into the palms. “Not that someone so  _ deluded _ as him could ever understand such a thing.

“I just…” they said, voice beginning to break, “I just… want him to  _ go away _ .”

Hound put their face in their hands as their whole body shuddered, letting out a sob that broke Elliott’s heart. It was something he’d only heard a few times before, and he knew it was a kind of loss. Whether they were weeping for the younger version of themself in the photos, or just the stress brought upon by the re-emerging bits of their past, it hurt him all the same. Elliott inched closer to them, hand outstretched but still too afraid to get very close. They could get angry again, and he’d have to pull back and ride out the storm once more. They were unpredictable at the best of times, let alone when they got emotional.

There was still a question left hanging in the air, and one he couldn’t stand letting go unanswered. 

“Hound,” he said calmly, trying to keep himself steady for their sake, “Who… who did this to you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” they said flatly, voice hollow. They seemed to be reigning it back in, trying to get it back under control. 

“Yes it does,” he insisted. “How old were you in these photos? You look… you look like a kid.”

Hound froze, and dropped their hands. He could see a tear sliding down their cheek, and he wished he could get up and wipe it away. “I do not know.”

“What?”

“Remember what I told you? I do not know my age. I was not yet an adult, I know that much. Maybe… seventeen? At the oldest. Not that it matters. It was my fault for getting involved with that mess.”

“No,” he said, with more steel in his voice, “No, no that’s bullshit. Hound, how could something as awful as this ever be your fault? You were a  _ kid _ for fuck’s sake. You didn’t deserve something like this.”

“I was a fool!” they snapped, “I could have run, and I didn’t! I stayed, and that puts responsibility on me.”

Elliott opened his mouth to respond, but their breath hitched and the anger left them completely. He’d only seen them like this once before, when they’d had their nightmare and run down to the river. It made sense now, why they’d been in such a hurry and why they’d chosen to go there. They must have been able to feel him, or whoever those other people were, on their skin. It would have had to have been bad for them to claw at their own skin enough to bleed, and he had no doubt of that now. 

_ “The memories, they won’t leave me alone”  _

That’s what Hound had said to him then. They must have been plagued by them more often than he’d known, and this had all just stirred all those awful things back up again. 

“I thought that now I would be free of him,” they muttered weakly, as they hugged themself tightly. “I never am though, am I? He’s always going to be there, no matter what I do.”

Elliott stood up and moved over to them, tentatively opening his arms. It made sense now why they hated to be touched without permission, and he didn’t want to hurt them anymore then they already were. Hound stepped inside, and he just held them as best as he could. It was what had worked back at the river, and he desperately hoped it would help now. It was really all he could offer, since he was busy trying to reign in his own thoughts before he could help them.

Elliott knew he’d never been an angry person, so he didn’t know what to call the fire burning in his chest at first. It was white hot, and nearly blinding the bigger it grew. Seemingly with every passing second it just got more intense, so much so that he didn’t know how to handle it. It was an awful feeling, but it was more powerful than anything else he’d ever felt. He wasn’t angry for his own sake, but rather entirely for Hound. Someone had hurt them, completely violated them, and had seen it fit to remind them of that pain. He was upset that this person had shown him a glimpse of the awful things they’d done to someone he cared so deeply about, but his feelings didn’t matter. If Hound needed to break down and burn out for a while, that was fine by him. He could be angry enough for both of them. 

“We’ll figure out something to do, okay?” he said, resting his head against their chest. “We’re not going to just let this go, I promise.”

“I do not want to hear it, Kaer. I am too tired,” they said, leaning heavily on him, “I just… just need to sit down.”

Silently he led them over to the edge of the bed, easing them down onto it. He shielded them from the remaining photos spread across the covers, vowing to burn them as soon as Hound was stable again. He didn’t want to have to see or touch the awful things even once more, but it was better than Hound having to ever lay their eyes on them again. He could suffer for their sake if he needed to. They’d given him their protection from the world, and now it was time that he paid them back for that. But even then, it wasn’t really about owing them anything. He wanted to help them in any way that he could. If they just needed a shoulder for now, then that’s what he would do. He could wait until their anger returned before bringing it up again. 

If it was selfish to do so, he didn’t care. Elliott couldn’t bear to let something that disgusting stand, no matter what Hound thought of it. Hound had made him work on his patience, and always said how he was going to use that practice for something good. It didn’t matter who the mysterious figure was, or what his relationship to Hound really entailed.

He wasn’t going to get away with it, and of that, Elliott was certain. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiiii I'm back. 
> 
> I had a lil mini chapter planned in between this one and the last, but I hated it so I scrapped it and just started this. It's absolutely killing me not to just info dump all of Hound's backstory in one fell swoop because I'm so proud of it. Lotta my sweat and Hound's blood and tears. It's fine though it's worth it. 
> 
> Elliott is my little baby man with his sore scars cuz fun fact. keloid scars take a stupid amount of time to heal and they hurt the whole god damn time. Ask me how I know jk don't plz it's weird. 
> 
> It snowed like two feet in one day here and is currently -20C so like I hate my life and I'm becoming a hermit who only leaves to go to the bathroom and buy groceries. My cats love it because it means they have a thousand sweaters to curl up in and shed all over. 
> 
> Honestly huge shoutout to everyone who left comments on my last chapter. I don't reply to a ton of them but all of them mean the world to me, especially all the people who's names I see popping up again and again. I recognize most of them now and it's so awesome seeing you guys stick around with me. I owe so much to this series so I'm happy I'm not the only one reading it besides my beta reader. 
> 
> We do have a server if you want to join! It's full of apex stuff and us bullying each other, along with some awesome other writers and artists. If you love the darker side of the fanbase, then it can be a home for you too ^^ https://discord.gg/ycxKSAA there's the link for anyone who wants to come hang out and listen to the awful mommy milkers conversation we had about Horizon. 
> 
> Cheers  
> -P


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